Page 7
“Yes?”
She snorts. “Do better.”
I flinch. Those words have haunted me for a long, long time. It didn’t take more than a handful of months for me to understand that I misinterpreted my mom’s meaning. But by then, it was too late. I’d already ruined the best thing in my life.
I should’ve done better for Gemma. Instead, I did the opposite—too blinded by the abandonment to see straight. It put me in a very dark place.
When she asked me why now, after all this time, it’s because I couldn’t stay away for another second. I’m finally able to own up to my poor choices. It shouldn’t have taken over six years or happened to begin with, but I can’t rewrite the past.
The night of Gemma’s accident was a wake-up call I didn’t need. I should’ve been by her side through it all. The countless crimes I’ve committed against her are shackles I’ll carry until my last breath. I don’t expect her forgiveness. I just want a chance to explain and maybe get my friend back. If not, I’ll wallow in this misery I created.
“She deserves only the best from me,” I murmur to my audience. “And I’m hoping I can prove myself worthy.”
Paisley squints at me. “You gotta do a lot more than text her and show up at her job.”
“Can you give me some suggestions?” I’m not above begging at this point.
My heart is on my sleeve, ready to bleed out. For far too long, I bottled up my feelings and used reckless extremes as outlets. Any asshole who looked at me sideways was clearly itching for a fight. Alcohol drowned my sorrows until I couldn’t care less. I’d request the wildest bucking horses. A few bulls even took me for a spin. Anything to avoid facing the truth.
I’m hopelessly in love with Gemma Keaton and I forced her to hate me.
“Gro-vel,” Bianca sing-songs.
My head hangs on a sigh. “Yeah, okay. I need to change my approach, but I’m obviously shit at this.”
Paisley waves that off with a swat. “My sister isn’t that complicated.”
“I don’t understand women,” I admit.
They both snort. Even Frankie scoffs from where she’s watching all the kids several yards away.
“Only certain parts of their anatomy, huh?” Bianca rolls her eyes.
I cringe. It’s no secret that I have a reputation. That’s another one of my faults.
“Let’s discuss grand gestures,” Paisley says.
“Grand gestures?”
The two exchange a glance. It makes me want to smack my own forehead. There’s entirely too much unknown in that look.
Bianca stands and pats my shoulder. “You’re in for a crash course, buckaroo. Better grab a pen and paper.”
Heartbreaker: Remember when I’d bring a foghorn to cheer you on? I revived the tradition. Did you hear it?
Heartbreaker: Great run btw
I heard the foghorn after we wrapped the third barrel and headed for home. My heart sped up along with my horse. We won tonight. That doesn’t mean Chance has earned a response.
But that doesn’t stop my fingers from itching to type out a quick reply. I pocket my phone to dissolve the urge and focus on my priorities.
My gelding gets an extra treat for running so fast. We almost clocked an arena record. After filling a bucket, I give Hank water and he eagerly drinks almost half. It was another scorcher today.
“Such a good boy,” I croon. “I can always count on you.”
Unlike most guys.
My gaze scans the other horse trailers parked behind the arena. Even from my spot tucked away in the corner, I can hear giggles and obnoxious flirting from buckle bunnies. Worse than nails on a chalkboard. It’s more than likely that a horde of them are gathered around Chance to wish him luck before his ride. And to think, I was the first member of his fan club. Look where it landed me. Barf.
